


Blood Bound

by castiel_to_my_sherlock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Blood and Gore, Death, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiel_to_my_sherlock/pseuds/castiel_to_my_sherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel are both serial killers who admire each others work. Their mutual goal is to kill each other when they meet. Though they may have a professional relationship, they both want the title of America's most feared killer. That may be their goal but when they finally do some face to face, things don't turn out quite the way they expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Casual Stalking

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to http://mishasfuckinghipbones.tumblr.com/ for the prompt. I don't know exactly what this fic is going to entail but the warnings for now are: intense gore, murder and explicit language.   
> Credit to the writers of Supernatural for the characters, only the writing is my own. Enjoy and please leave a comment and maybe a kudo? Although just reading this will make my day.

Dean hated Castiel. Those smirks that haunted his every waking moment, and sometimes even the sleeping ones, bounced around in his mind on an hourly basis making it impossible to concentrate on anything else. Oh, he fully intended to kill the smirking son of a bitch, but not yet. They were playing a game, a game of cat and mouse, one that Dean fully intended to win. They had never actually met but Dean felt the connection. Cas wasn’t just some dumb newbie who shanked a druggie in the dark alleyways. Castiel was an artist and was making his name in the states, something that just wouldn’t do. Dean was the #1 killer in these parts and he wasn’t willing to share his title. Dubbed the ‘Casanova Killer’ Dean certainly wasn’t short of fans in the media and otherwise. Dean despised these fans though, they didn’t know the first thing about him, but Castiel was different. He wasn’t exactly a fan but he followed Dean’s work closely. So closely, in fact, that the media had started rumours of their secret love affair. ‘Casanova Killer in love with Demon Delacroix?’ and ‘Cas and Dean, a story of killers united by passion’ the headlines flashed before his eyes and made him dizzy with hate. They should just keep out of it or maybe Dean would have to pay their hip, trendy media suite a visit.

Dean and Castiel communicated through bodies and security tapes. They had no desire to keep their identities secret, they both wanted full credit. Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak, top two killers in America based upon proven body count in the states. Dean knew for a fact that Castiel didn’t care about quantity, it was the presentation that mattered to him. If you asked Dean how he knew he wouldn’t have an answer for you, he just knew. Dean didn’t exactly keep tabs on it either, they were just numbers. What mattered was the rush Dean got when another person’s life drained from their eyes. Dean wasn’t an artist like Castiel, he didn’t get the rush from the after appearance. He got it from the feel of the souls as they left the body. It felt good. Despite their differences in taste when it came to homicide, they were both very much on the same wavelength. They clicked. That was it.

You may wonder how Dean and Castiel got their hands on the security tapes they communicated through as not all were aired to the public. For Dean it was simply a matter of schooling. Before his little brother passed on, he had taught Dean a trick or two. FBI case files? No problem. Sometimes they were a little harder to get to, encrypted files and shit Dean didn’t understand. _Sammy would’ve been able to crack this_ , Dean thought sullenly while glaring at his laptop one day. It sent a pang of sadness through him which he quickly dispelled. He promised to be strong so strong he'd be. There was a tech genius called Charlie who worked quick and asked no questions if you paid the right price. Sometimes the prices were crazy things like comic-con tickets and Hermione limited edition dolls but the girl was good and Dean liked her.

As for Cas, even Dean didn’t know that. Perhaps he had his connections like Dean. Perhaps Castiel was the connection, a technical genius. Dean didn’t care; all he cared about was that they could ‘talk’. It wasn’t really talking but it was communicating. Castiel's first big kill was dedicated to Dean. It showed his admiration but also his challenge quite clearly. Dean had come across it in the news. As it was a different kill to the usual hit and run of the American streets, it attracted attention. With just under experienced police officials on the case to begin with, lots of information had leaked out, including a picture of the body and a video from a security camera.

The victim was male, Caucasian, 23 and 5”9, quite the challenge for a first big time kill. Clearly Castiel had practiced before but not nearly as glamorously. A slit to the throat was the concluded cause of death as it had been for the past 5 months of Castiel's career up to now. The body was stripped of his shirt, not with sexual intentions but rather to produce a larger canvas for the painter. An artful ‘D.W’ was made with the murder weapon. The curls spread over the ribs and plunged until they stopped at the lower stomach area, sweeping off with a flick. Dean’s eyes pricked with tears. He wouldn’t admit to it but as he watched the old block of a TV in the crummy motel room, Dean almost wept tears of joy. It was beautiful, maybe not his style but it was elegant and sophisticated. The calligraphy was all for him. He had coughed and attempted to pull back his masculinity desperately when the news reporter’s overly perky voice came back, slightly more severe from the ‘horrific, truly sickening sight’. Dean rolled his eyes at that phrase; she clearly had no idea what she was talking about.

Castiel’s face appeared, blurry and in black and white, but the details still discernable. _He isn’t worried about the cops identifying him then_ , Dean thought, drinking in the sharp cheekbones and mussed hair from the back. He had just finished his art piece when he turned and looked up to the camera, smiling somewhat manically before breaking the glass. A challenger, he hadn’t had one of those in a while. The last one ended up with a neck full of barbed wire. Gordon was a fool, Castiel was not. Maybe he really was going to rob Dean of his title. He considered it but dismissed it. He was the best. Now though, he wasn’t so sure. Castiel and Dean had become notorious, lock your loved ones inside kind of notorious. This was all well and good but Dean wanted to be the only one with that kind of power. He was somewhat competitive. It made it harder to get kills but Dean loved it. No longer was it like picking lobsters out of the tank.

Something startled Dean as he watched the first clip of many to come, he had no eyes. Well, that wasn’t true. They were there but they were colourless, pure white. _Unusual, a possible statement?,_ Dean thought but no matter how much he understood Castiel he still didn’t understand those eyes which featured in every security clip Dean got. The only statement Dean made in his kills was the heart carved into each of his victim’s shoulder, the left one to be exact. The Casanova Killer wasn’t so much a knife person, it took too long in his opinion, but the calling card was a must. His favoured weapon of choice was his own hands. The feel of a neck breaking in his fingers, the crack as bones gave way, it couldn’t be beaten. Dean was no idiot though and brought a gun with him to every kill. In fact, it rarely left his person. It was silver and had a delicately carved design embellishing the side, his favourite gun. A few kills had to be done with the pistol in instances like the victim waking early or one of them fancying their chances when they realised something spooky was going on. It was rare though, Dean was good.

His burn phone buzzed and Dean took a moment from his reminiscing to read the message.

**_Your boy got another. Sending you a link now. C xx_ **

Okay, so maybe Charlie wasn’t just a connection through which he obtained videos. She had become a friend which Dean knew was dangerous but he was a lonely serial killer, how many opportunities for friends presented themselves to him on a daily basis? He woke up the laptop. Dean also knew this damn thing was dangerous but he couldn’t throw it away. It was Sammy’s most prized possession. Even if it was getting slow and the screens resolution was from the dark ages, he would never trade it in. Maybe that’d be his downfall, sentimentality.

An email popped up as promised with a link and a note from Charlie.

**_This one is on the house. They sent this thing to NYPD, can you believe it? C xx_ **

He got loads of freebies from Charlie once they bonded over Lord of the Rings and discussed Star Trek in depth. She only charged for the difficult ones, girl had to make a living. She also kept up with Castiel and gave Dean updates. In return Dean would send her a dollar figurine for each one, depicting characters such as Frodo and Han Solo. She had a small army of them by now.

Dean clicked the file open being met with a smiling face with colourless eyes. Castiel had a roll of tools with him today and Dean was interested to see what Demon Delacroix had up his sleeve today. Dean saw the trademark contacts which earned Castiel the ‘Demon’ part of his name. They made the eyes of the victims black. The second big presentation Castiel had done involved these contacts, the first one lacked them. It was the only one that did. He had started small. The second one had the contacts pushed in and ‘divine wrath’ carved into the torso. Angels, demons, it wasn’t Dean's thing but he could respect a killer with purpose. This kill was for the government it seemed. The body was filleted like a fish and hung up with a hook which Castiel produced from a pouch on the roll. Then, the oddest thing happened. Castiel slid a bit of paper from the same pouch and used a nail to stick it in. It read ‘ **COURT ORDER** ’ in big blocky letters. Dean was intrigued. Castiel turned to the camera he knew was watching and mouthed something before doing the usual smashing camera routine. Dean had lost count of how many times he replayed those few seconds. His mouth formed the words, mirroring Castiel approximately ten times before he got it.

“See you soon.”


	2. Sleep Now

Castiel smiled to himself, tapping the wheel of his car rhythmically. He’d just finished a successful kill and was on his way to meet Uriel, his contact. They always show killers to be solitary in the movies and the books but that is only because they never find the people on the sidelines, killers in the shadows. How else do you suppose killers get out of tight spots? Information, that’s how. Uriel rubbed Castiel up the wrong way. He wouldn’t do business with him at all, he knew way too much about him for his liking, but he was the most knowledgeable man Castiel had met. He was helping Castiel track Dean down and a promising lead had come up hence the ‘see you soon’. It was a risky move, alerting Dean like that, but Castiel dealt in danger and he just couldn’t help himself.

Castiel pulled his little silver car up next to Uriel’s building. It was abandoned and a gust of wind could probably blow it down, perfect for shady business. Inside Uriel was tapping on the keys of a laptop.

“Mind the wire, I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Uriel chuckled.

Castiel looked down and saw the thin line just an inch away from his ankles. Had he tripped that they’d both be blown into oblivion.

“Thank you,” Castiel said somewhat awkwardly, stepping over the trap.

“I’ve found him. This boy gets around. I have the cash now and you can meet your guy in a few hours. Deal?” Uriel leaned back in his chair, smug look on his face.

“Cash is in the usual place,” Castiel walked to look at the computer screen inquisitively.

“Ah ah ah. How do I know you aren't lying to me?”

“I’m not stupid.”

“You’re a killer.”

“Not a stupid one.”

“If I find it’s not there I will find _you_.”

“Noted.”

After the brief exchange, Castiel was allowed to look at the computer screen. There were security camera pictures of Dean all over the screen. Some were candid shots, Uriel’s work presumably.

“I put a tracker on that car of his. It’s going to get him killed one day. Not a bad way to go, defending that classic. When you're done with him you think you could spare it? I would love to get behind that wheel and-“

“Uriel,” Castiel interrupted, annoyed at the rambling.

“Yes?” Uriel returned the look of annoyance.

“Last known location?”

“Pine Lake Motel, here’s the address,” the irritable reply came with a folded note. Castiel nodded curtly and accepted the paper. It was only a matter of time before he came face to face with the man he’d been tracking so faithfully and Castiel couldn't wait.

 

Dean sat in his motel room, cleaning his small collection of guns. Most of them burnt in the fire but Dean salvaged a few of his favourites and replaced the ones he truly needed. The gun cleaning went on for hours but Dean found the whole thing very therapeutic. It reminded him of John in a good way, as he was before it happened. Dean was brought out of his reverie by beeping, his alarms way of telling him to get the fuck up and put the damn guns away. The light clicked off and Dean smiled, this was going to be so much fun.

Castiel looked at the dark motel room and unrolled his tools. He clicked them into the keyhole and worked his magic, the lock clicking open in just over a minute. The sound of deep breathing carried to him and he let himself be swallowed by the darkness. The lump in the bed signified his victim and Castiel crept over, knife in hand. He would honestly like to get to know this man better but he knew it was better to be safe than sorry and after all the time it took to hunt him down, Castiel was not about to give him another chance to sneak off. His hand went to the duvet and it was then he noticed this lump hadn't taken a breath in over two minutes.

“Night, night,” the voice taunted and then Castiel fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long and is so short although I expect I'll upload the next chapter very soon. Also, the character Uriel hasn't been very well written and I know it. Originally he was going to be Gordon but then I realised I'd already used Gordon so I edited the dialogue a little and changed his name so sorry about that, it'll be better the next time. If there is a next time that is...


	3. Agreements and Hospitality

Dean studied the man who was handcuffed to a pipe in the basement, location: who knows? He was pretty, Dean couldn’t deny. His mussed hair looked as if every strand was artfully placed to create the perfect style and his lips, though cracked and dry, were oh so tempting. The man, Castiel, stirred and Dean stood to attention, hand drifting to his gun.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel rasped, blinking heavily before meeting his kidnappers eyes. The blue hit him like a freight train. It was sapphire and azure, sea blue and turquoise. It was every kind and shade of blue known to man mixed to make a whole new colour. Dean composed himself and put on his winning smile and a cocky demeanor.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean crouched and made himself level with ‘Cas’. He wasn’t quite sure where the nickname had come from but it felt right. Castiel shifted and sat up straight, folding his legs.

“You’ve been a worthy opponent and I thank you for that but mind games are a little distasteful don’t you think?”

“Mind games?”

“Well, you haven’t killed me so why else would I be handcuffed in a basement except for your amusement?” Castiel lifted his arm and the metal rattled.

“I can think of a few things,” Dean winked and Cas shifted, a predatory look in his eyes.

“Is that what you’ve been waiting for, Dean? Then come on,” Cas challenged, standing and letting the handcuff slide up the vertical part of the pipe. Dean's eyes widened, he hadn't expected this. He paced around Castiel, both eyeing each other up, before taking a step forward.

“You're inviting me?” Dean growled, inches away from Castiel's face. He could feel soft breaths fanning out over his face and smell the vanilla that clung to Cas’ clothes.

“It’s been a while,” Castiel smirked. Dean leaned in and when he was centimeters away from Castiel's lips, pain erupted. Castiel had head-butted him _hard_.

“What the fuck man?” Dean clutched his forehead between his hands and they came away red.

“Two can play at this game,” Castiel replied snootily and sat back down, folding his legs beneath him and closing his eyes.

“Dude, are you _meditating_?”

“Not with your whining I’m not.”

The glare caught Dean by surprise but nevertheless, it was there and directed at Castiel. _What a douchebag_ , Dean thought as he grabbed a cloth from the desk and mopped up the blood.

“Aren't you even a little curious about what I plan to do with you?” Dean pressed.

“No. You will do what you must.”

“There is nothing I ‘must’ do. I do what I want.”

“Either way, you must dispose of me or keep me in captivity. You can’t release me, I know where you are now and all of your weaknesses,” Castiel opened a single eye and watched Dean pacing. Dean thought he looked very cat-like in his watchful state.

“Where am I supposed to keep you? Here?” Dean exclaimed, waving his hands around the place. It was dark and dingy but not uninhabitable.

“Why not? Seems comfortable enough,” Castiel slid his cuffs down the s-shaped pipe to the lower horizontal part and lay down to prove his point.

“I can’t watch you when you’re down here,” Dean mused to himself more than anyone but Castiel waved his concern away with his free hand.

“Get some blankets, there’s plenty of room.”

“Why do you want to stay here so badly?”

“Let’s just say a contact of mine won’t be very happy about a deal that went down. I prefer to live,” Castiel said vaguely, eyes closed thinking about Uriel’s threat.

“But what would you have done if you’d managed to kill me?”

“Become you,” Castiel smiled maliciously but kept his eyes closed.

“What did you say?”

“Become you. Meet the new Dean Winchester, that sort of thing.”

“You’re crazy.”

“And you locked me up in this basement, are we going to argue mental stability?”

Dean grumbled but he knew there was no point pursuing it. He thought about it and finally came to a conclusion; he wasn’t going to kill the man yet. He wanted to know him, he wanted to understand him.

“Fine, you can stay down here,” Dean relented.

“Sans handcuffs?”

“Yeah, right. Get comfortable, I’ll be back soon.”

Castiel sighed but accepted this. He didn’t actually think that Dean would let him stay alive; he hadn’t pegged him for an idiot. Despite this, Castiel found himself liking Dean. He was amusing and Cas thought that they might become friends if they both managed to live long enough. Castiel knew if he was released he’d have to kill Dean but there was no reason for them not to have fun in the meantime, was there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter if you celebrate that and if not, happy Sunday. Hope you enjoyed the new update. This is not where I thought this would go but here we are. Comments welcome!


	4. Apologies

Dean returned soon enough with a few wool blankets he’d managed to scrounge from his, now abandoned, motel room and a backpack full of necessities and his favourite gun.

“I don’t expect you to answer, but where are we?” Castiel attempted, still lying down but this time with blue eyes wide open.

“Underground, underneath a shack of a building. Supposedly haunted so we shouldn’t get too many visitors,” Dean dropped the pack on the floor far out of Castiel’s reach.

“And the car?” Castiel asked curiously, sitting up straight now.

“She’s parked up th-, wait what? How’d you know about Baby?” Dean turned on Cas and knelt down, putting them face to face.

“I have my contacts as I’m sure you do. The one looking for my head took quite a liking to _baby_ ,” Castiel sneered the word with a smirk but continued, “so you might want to keep her out of the way.”

Dean glared for a few seconds longer than he needed too, eyes flicking down to those cracked lips, before standing up and reaching for his bag.

“You hungry? Thirsty?” he offered, removing a water bottle for himself.

“I wouldn’t refuse a drink,” Castiel said, eying the one Dean took for himself.

Dean held it out and got himself another as Castiel gulped that one down viciously. Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t watch every gulp like the creep he was discovering he was.

“Thank you,” Cas murmured, almost shyly now, and put the almost empty bottle on the pipe.

“No problem. If I kidnapped you I should at least give you water, right?” Dean coughed at his failed attempt at a joke. He found the awkward comment was worth it though when Cas gave him the slightest tilt upwards at the corner of his lips as reward. Castiel changed then, stiffening and straightening his back as if he’d forgotten to be a douchebag.

“Yes, well, maybe I should make you a medal ‘#1 kidnapper’,” Castiel said sarcastically. Dean simply rolled his eyes and set his bottle on the aforementioned fold out table.

“Blankets, should be a cold night,” Dean grumbled and threw two at Cas who caught them squarely in the face with a grunt of annoyance.

“Thank you, Dean,” he replied somewhat tightly.

“Get some shut eye,” the bare light bulb clinging for dear life onto the ceiling flickered off as Dean flipped a switch.

“What? Big day tomorrow? Don’t tell me we’re getting mineral water instead of tap? I may faint with excitement.” Dean chose to ignore the snappy comment and instead settled by the bag on the floor with his blankets staying decidedly close to the gun.

“Goodnight, Castiel.”

“Oh, come on. Not ‘Cas’? Please don’t tell me we’re having an argument. Oh you do know I hate it when we fight, Deanie,” Castiel mocked before a hand closed around his throat. Dean had flown across the room at his words and was now choking the life out of his prisoner. Castiel simply stared back into the green orbs inches from his face and made a few choked noises but put up no fight.

“Don’t call me that,” Dean spat but he let Cas go. The man pulled in oxygen by the gallon and rubbed at the red marks which would surely become bruises but said nothing. After a few minutes of settling and readjusting to the cold, stone floor, Castiel spoke a few hoarse words.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean sighed and closed his eyes.

“Goodnight, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I've been negligent. Thank you all for continuing to read.


End file.
